


bath

by ruruka



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, shared bath time., ummmmmmm another short soft one im just having fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 17:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15756837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka





	bath

he’s fucking tired. simple as that.

simple, never once a word he’d pour upon himself, but the work schedule’s simple in the sundays they share at home, the mondays for makoto and tuesdays his own private domain. though not so just yet, as the day behind him’s been a monday at the office, a monday worked straight through lunch with no one to tell him he deserves a break, mondays with no sweet laughter along the halls or waves through his office door on a pass (well, there’s plenty of all that, waves and laughter and cacophony from others of his division, though hagakure hardly plays the perfect substitute).

he’s _tired_ \- damn him to hell and back, he’d fall face first into his comforters were it not for the blockade of evening’s halo taking to his entrance. the foyer echoes beneath the shoes he’s quick to ditch, quick to sigh and stretch and savor every second that bids him nearer once he’s approached the kitchen entry.

“hi, handsome.” yes, that’s him. the stove burners click cold two together, air warm with ginger, velvet. naegi looks just as divine to him as he so always does, with that litheness he’s never known how to flaunt, the smile in his either eye moving to clasp two arms up over his shoulders. togami _relaxes_ (never heard that one before, huh) into it, into _him_ , lids rested in his exhale out. “how was your day? did i miss anything exciting?”

“just me,” he murmurs back, and he’s only so cunning in the deep honey lights of six pm, and the deep honey warmth of his lover pulling away to kiss his lips in one push upward on the toes.

naegi laughs into his fingers; they lay next to one hip, dressed to yoga leggings and a department store tee, because he’s naegi and he’s sunk into his comfortable weekend at home just in time to end it, closely. but togami manages a glance away from him, _somehow_ , sips up the glaze of pans across the stove. and such a mess he’d scream all the way to the lysol cupboard were he the energy, though something in the way he’s told dinner’s been made, oyakodon, just the way he likes it, right- it melts him into all that they are, and he’s lost his tie and loosened his blazer- no, no the other way _god_ is he tired, but there’s hands squeezing the knots from his shoulders a brisk minute and a bowl of hot loving flavor set before him the next, so he’ll live.

he hadn’t figured it to be possible for him to slip into any more exhaustion after such a day as he’s had of submanagament, clicking keys printer jams four out of six survivors of hell all coming together to drive him mad in their own special ways, yet after his middle’s all stuffed up in warmth and black tea, his eyes beg relent so far the most of a full week just begun. when he yawns, well it’s just mortifying, because aristocrats don’t yawn or stretch their arms up over the head like a naptime toddler, but he yawns and naegi tilts his head into a look of gentle gentle admiring, runs a hand up his back and says to him, “sleepy?”

the look aimed downward spells the most classic togami tightassery, it so surely earns a giggling. “we can head upstairs, then. i’ll let the dishes soak.”

for twenty two hours, he’s sure. he hasn’t the will to snap back at him, proves over tenfold that he’d better get to resting, quickly, for he’s not even enough of himself left in this weary state to pop off sarcasm. not that he can’t be sweet. togami can be sweet. this yawn is quick to be caught into a palm. he’s the sweetest guy on earth.

or perhaps the second most, as he’s not quite sure even he could contend with the soft licks of voice that guide him up the stairs to their bedroom, nor the fingers offering him help with belt loops and buttons until he captures himself back to shoo them off and insist he’s no child as so to be undressed by another. naegi smiles to him. he takes to pulling fabric from his tempered flush skin.

“i’ll be right back, get comfy.” togami hums to his departure round the corner of the doorframe. a palm massages the small of his spine after cotton’s been pulled over his head. a _sigh_ , and he lays to that same spine atop the plush behind him, low on the mattress with feet planted still to the floor beneath. paltry- he’s found himself the lack of lax for night without the touch of another aside him, a certain nother, juvenile as he may be to not be able to sleep without his husband. he need not worry altogether in another moment when hips come to straddle him and _right_ _back_ is right back, calling his eyes opened again for lips pressing his own.

“mmm...sweetheart?” his hands roam either side of him, of his makoto’s waist and his makoto’s thighs. every inch of him breathes soft midnight. “will you come with me?” mouths meet a melody, part for breath only gentle. “please?”

and call him a deadman should he refuse such a tender song. he’s fucking tired, _yes_ , but he still allows his wrists be dragged up into his labored rise, reluctant both for his fatigue and for the loss of doting on him alone. it’s to continue though, soothes that woe once he’s led to the washroom a hallway off, where the bathtub’s master enough for a quartet to lather up, scented of rose now in the spring tinted water risen to the center.

he turns backways to naegi’s form already begun stripping himself, blush pink lighting atop the smile that fixes him.

“bath bomb?” tempts togami in his own slip into the water. the heat of it rolls massages along his ache. once he’s joined, skin to skin warmth to fire, he cannot suppress how deliciously his body burns.

naegi breathes slack placidity. “komaru gave them to me for christmas last year. i thought this would be a good use for one. finally.”

behind him, togami nods an easy tempo, and holds the other closer. his ears pick up trickles of fingers tracing along the water’s top, feels naegi’s back against his chest as their breathing falls sync in the silence around them. dark evening shrouds, and the closeness is disturbed enough for him to grunt and beg him back; a candle flicks caramel beach sand scent in a corner of the countertop adjacent the same tune naegi draws into him again. the water relaxes in time to togami likewise.

“this is...nice,” he says, in his hushed baritone veneer. he kisses once behind his ear. “thank you.”

to the arms circling his waist at the front, naegi melds sets of fingers locked, rests his head back into the shoulder’s crook that bids it. harmony. subtle delectable harmony.

eyes lull closed. he’s tired. he’d never choose sleep over the color painting now his love.

simple as that.


End file.
